Earth's Final Hope
by M4GIC OR4NGEZ
Summary: Mass Effect on drugs. A parody of the multiplayer fics with samey characters and cliche plotlines, with a good dose of humour/general stupidity. Spectre Jones is the latest in the long pile of war assets and he and his team of OC's as they travel round the galaxy, blow stuff up and terrify insurance underwriters everywhere. OC's always needed!
1. Chapter 1

**Earth's last hope**

**A parody…**

**Greetings one and all.**

**I've been getting mildly annoyed by these multiplayer inspired stories. Whilst they're reasonably well written, people spoil it by adding poorly designed characters that all share common traits and only slightly differ from canon, I thought I'd spoof it, so here you go…**

"Admiral Hackett"

"Spectre Jones"

Spectre Daniel Jones was standing on the QEC of his ship, the SSV Bosworth. It was a sleek and futuristic ship that despite its small size, had the power to destroy an entire planet due to the stupid amount of weaponry. It looked like a space hedgehog worth the sheer amount of mass accelerators bristling from its hull.

"What do you need me to do Admiral?" Jones said.

"I need you to go round the galaxy, recruiting badly written OC's and blowing things up for no reason. I've forwarded dossiers suspiciously similar to those Mass Effect 2 with a few minor alterations to your Omni-Tool." Admiral Hackett said in his gruff, deadpan manner.

"Admiral, did you honestly just say that?" Jones replied to Admiral Hackett's flickering model.

"Due to a poorly written attempt by Bioware to link a multiplayer mode to the campaign *Looks at Bioware's chief writer* yes, I did." Hackett said as he crossed his arms.

"Then you have my deepest sympathy. How many romance options are the?" Jones said whilst he poorly disguised playing a game on his Omni-Tool. Hackett sighed before disconnecting. Jones smiled before walking back towards the CIC. He checked the Fornax web feed on his private terminal and drooled over an Asari for a bit before shutting his terminal and walking over to the elevator. A drinking game with one of the crew had knocked him out and he was tired.

"Wait Sir!" Said his Yeoman.

"You can't go to sleep, there are approximately 4583 reports that need filing to the council and you need to complete the annoyingly simple crew side quests!" She continued.

"Fuck the side quests! I need to watch some Quarian porn." He retaliated angrily, winning himself +2 Renegade points in the process. Instantly, yellow markings glowed across his face.

"Stupid reputation meter." He cursed before using a Renegade interrupt to slam the elevator door on his Yeoman's fingers, cutting them off and ruining his N7 jacket. The elevator hummed as he reached the top floor, his Omni-Tool beeping wildly.

**Wanted: Badly designed OC's to join the fight against Evil and to tie up loose plot holes. You need to submit…**

**Name: (Stupid preferably)**

**Class: **

**Personality: **

**Appearance:**

**Age: **

**Species: (Yahg need not apply)**

**Bio: (Defy Canon)**

**Weapons:**

**Powers:**

**Why they deserve to be in the story: (Make it up – Most people do)**

**May the power of the OR4NGEZ be with you…**

**M4GIC OR4NGEZ**


	2. Chapter 2

**Earth's final hope**

**Chapter 2**

**Just a quick thanks to all my reviewers. I've received a massively positive reaction which cancelled my fears that no one find this funny. The squad will only be ME2 size so only the _Crème de la Crème_ of OC's are accepted. My personal favourite at the moment is Hazel R's Asari with a human fetish but I'm sure there are plenty of other OC's out there. **

"Wake up Spectre! Wake up Spectre! Wake u…" Blared Daniel Jones's Alarm clock as it flew through the air before smashing into approximately 1000 tiny shards that would coat the floor and be a pain to clean.

"Bastard Alarm Clock." Jones cursed as he pulled himself out of bed before noticing his private terminal beeping like there was a drive core failure. He groaned before pouring himself a coffee and flicking through the dossiers on his desk in front of him.

_**Krane Theos – A Big Skyscraper**_

_Expert Drell Marksman who has a chequered past. Currently staking out a building on the Citadel and it is estimated that he will not be complete till the moment you arrive at the building. He is looking to assassinate an Asari Businesswoman for refusing to give him a refund on EBay._

_**Jack Craven – Ilium's Pussy Place Brothel**_

_Rich bastard who should easily be persuaded to donate to the Alliance. He is very sexist but you aren't female so you should get on nicely. Flatter him then pay for his extravagant Phone Sex bill. Lock him in a cell with sex toys should it come to it._

_**Hol'lee T'Cain – Earth, Alliance Barracks**_

_Asari with a severe human fetish. Poses as human to seduce victims before melding with them. Has an allergy to ordinary clothing and will only wear the bare minimum outside of combat – String on the top half and a very skimpy thong over the bottom half. Very Shy and has great LI potential._

_**You'll Get More Once You Complete a Major Plot Device…**_

"Bastard plot devices." Jones said before he pulled on his Alliance fatigues, carefully selected to increase his ab size and maximise LI ability. He then picked up his Spectre mug (A Turian, Asari, Salarian and Human all pointing guns at a Batarian was the graphic) and stepped into the elevator. He sighed as it clunkily stopped and restarted before it finally rested on the command deck. He stepped out before stepping onto the plinth and activating the Galaxy Map, playing the cool music over the ships speakers.

"Ulysees?" He shouted due to a lack of microphone – he only had USB input for the ships speaker system so he normally played a selection of out of date hits and smooth jazz.

"What Spectre?" Cried out Jones's long suffering pilot, Ulysses. As far as Alliance was concerned, she was the kiss of death for any mission with 7 ships destroyed over 6 operations. It was only through an administrative error that she was assigned to the mission in the first place. Jones walked over to see her in an expression of intense concentration.

"Constipation again?" Jones asked, not even smiling.

"No." Ulysses replied

"I'm trying to use the force to pilot – I even switched off the VI assist."

"Is that why we're heading straight towards a Batarian ship with a skull and crossbones floating then?" Jones replied before realising what it meant.

"SPACE PIRATES!" they both screamed in unison as an old style galleon in a Mass Effect bubble floated past them, a group of Batarians waving curved Omni-Blades and firing pistols at them.

"Yar!" Screamed the Space Pirates before cowering in fear as the hedgehog style Bosworth began to power up the multitude of Mass Accelerators that covered its surface. The slaves manning the oars of the ship began to desperately paddle in the opposite direction before the Bosworth opened fire. They weren't quick enough. The hundreds of guns sticking out of the Bosworth's surface fired together, creating a wall of projectiles that completely obliterated the Galleon in a way that totally invalidated its insurance policy and the manufacturers warranty at the same time, causing mass cheering to break out on the Bosworth and various champagne corks to fly across the room. Jones shook his head in despair.

-N7- (Cool line Break eh?)

After a long loading screens worth of travelling, the Bosworth finally docked at Ilium. Jones stepped out before been greeted by a long line of people offering him Time Share holidays on Various Terminus worlds. He calmly shot the ship to ship salesbeings before moving on in search of the Pussy Place strip club. Stepping put with him were two squadmates, one of which was guaranteed to die in a humiliating way before the plot line got truly underway. One was Lance Awesome, the bone headed man who had an uncomfortable desire to touch everything and could only walk up to hostile threats before hugging them to death. The other, John Dorian, wet himself every time he heard a gunshot and blindly fired shots at the bad guys whilst cowering in pure fear. Jones continued to step forwards, walking to the nearest transport hub and entering a skycar. The ride to the Pussy Place club was short and uneventful with only a mildly entertaining loading screen playing on a loop. Jones climbed out of the Skycar, only to see the entire building up in flames.

**This was the longest chapter yet but that isn't saying much. I'm accepting Idea's from people and still accepting OC's. The Strip Club name was meant to be douchey on purpose as I have nothing against women.**

**May the power of the OR4NGEZ be with you…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Earth's final hope**

**Chapter 3**

**Hey!**

**I feel as though I've neglected this fic a bit, focusing on my SI but I hope you'll all bear with me. Without a doubt, here is another chapter.**

Jones walked in to the Pussy Place to find a mound of dead bodies lying on the pink, turex covered floor. Carefully stepping over used condoms and sachets of Lube Cream, he continued, darting from cover to cover and humming the mission impossible theme tune whilst his two companions began to smash their heads against the wall in despair. The Pussy Place was strange even by Jones's standards – Pink décor with pictures of scantily clad women of all species wearing cat heads. The owner had clearly missed the point. As they moved on, waking down the pink corridor, Jones noticed that none of the bodies were female.

"Stay sharp boys, we got ourselves a perv here." Jones whispered as he moved out onto the main floor. It made him feel both sickened and jealous at the same time.

The main floor was huge with an elevated platform he assumed the 'dancers' would be stationed. Underneath were private booths and armchairs to sit on. Jones also noticed a credit chit slot underneath a 'Requests' button. He shuddered at the thought before looking straight ahead. A man was sitting at the centre of the room, surround by at least 20 women, most of whom were human but with a few other species in the mix. Each one was naked and each one appeared to satisfying the man's sexual cravings. The figure in the chair was wearing an expensive suit with sunglasses, his trousers at his ankles. Jones winced in horror at the last detail before Lance screamed next to him. The man had noticed them, pulled his trousers up and pulled his Paladin.

"These are my bitches gays! Get your own strippers!" He screamed, launching a carnage shot at Lance who was attempting to hug him.

Lance began to visibly cry and ran off in tears before turning into various items of goo when a carnage shot hit him.

"We come in peace!" Jones cried, firing a concussive shot as John Dorian was snivelling in the corner, firing his pistol at a hologram in the corner.

"I was in the middle of proving my manhood and you ruined it!" The man screamed before slapping one of the women as they attempted to calm him down.

"Don't touch me bitch! Look, dance and dream but DO NOT TOUCH THE MERCHANDISE!" The man shouted as he picked the stripper up, using her as a human shield. The other strippers walked away in disgust, taking the man's weapons with them. Panicking at the loss of female flesh, he turned and looked at the females.

"Please come back! I'm very generous!" He said, his ego shrivelling up like a dead Rachni at the sudden loss of status. Seeing a golden opportunity, Jones walked over.

"I'm sorry."

"All I ever wanted, gone right before my eyes." The man sobbed as he collapsed to the ground.

"I don't want to look like something out of Hurt/Comfort fiction… "

"There, there. You have a name, what is it?" Jones replied, mystified at the last remark.

"I'm Jack, Jack Craven. The sexiest man alive!" Jack said, his emotions suddenly gone and the douche they had approached earlier in place instead. Jones sighed at this before pulling out a business card.

"Well I'm Spectre Jones and I'd love to have you on my kick-ass, buttwhip team. " Jones said as he put on his best salesman voice.

"I don't need a Spectre, I've got a small fortune, a Fornax subscription and the Omni-Tool connection of every prostitute on Ilium. Why would I join a warship?"

"To earn fame and glory?" Jones said.

"I'll give that a miss…" Jack said before turning to leave.

Jones hit the Renegade interrupt as soon as it appeared, grabbing Jack and pointing at a dead body.

"There's more to life than women. If you don't help, you'll spend your last days rotting as a Husk. Fight for the future, even if it is one long orgy in your view." Jones said, his eyes squinting as he spoke and his finger pounding Jack's chest. His eyes suddenly flickered red, causing Jack to step backwards at the glowing spiderweb of scars that crossed Jones's face.

"Sorry, it happens" Jones said before helping John to his feet and hugging him, earning him some Paragon points and causing his face to return to normal. They turned to leave, after planting a few tonnes of explosive and detonating it upon departure.

-N7-

"Spectre?" Jack said, hurriedly closing the video feed of the female showers as Jones walked in.

"Just checking in. I like to pretend I know my crew." Jones said before walking around the room. It had numerous pictures on the walls and a bookshlelf. Jones took a closer look at the titles.

_**Fornax female of the year – 2182, 2183, 2184, 2185, 2186, 2187.**_

_**Picking up women – A beginners guide**_

_**Gun Mods Weekly**_

_**Straight Pride**_

Jones shuddered before turning back to Jack.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Jack said, pacing the room.

"I just wanted to see if you'd settled ok on the Bosworth." Jones replied.

"I'm fine. Want to hear my depressing backstory which you'll skip most of after 10 seconds?"

"Sure…"

**Another Lampshading fest. I have a little secret to share – some of the idea's for the last chapter were submitted by 666psychocheddar999 who is no doubt pissed at me as I forgot to include their name in the last chapter. Sorry…**

**I'm still wanting OC's so keep sending me them and thanks for watching.**

**May the Power of the OR4NGEZ be with you**

**M4GIC OR4NGEZ**


End file.
